


Charity Case

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: Phracking Inzane (PFF Series) [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Chair Sex, Established Phrack, Established Relationship, F/M, Phrack Fucking Friday, Shameless Smut, Smut, references to zebras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: My second PFF and I'm trying to time this so it's still technically in theAugust Squeezing It In: August Bonus Fic Promptand a September PFF... so...reallysqueezing it it.This is terribly goofy... but I blame to cold meds.





	Charity Case

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarahtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/gifts), [Scruggzi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/gifts).



His face strained. Beads of sweat were already forming on his brow and he could feel the cool trails down his neck.  As he got into position at her backdoor, he realized how tight the fit was going to be. “I really don’t think that’s going to fit.” He didn’t want to cause any damage to such a beauty.

“Mmm…” She smiled at him seductively, “Of course it will. Just push.”

 

* * *

 

Earlier that evening

“How much longer do we need to stay?” Jack breathed out in mild frustration. They had been attending yet another charity function, this time at the Windsor, an event being thrown by Aunt Prudence. They had also been hoping to speak with a Mr. Harmon about an ongoing investigation. Mr. Harmon was a no-show.  Jack looked at his watch—two hours late. “I don’t think he’s going to show up.”

The charity function ended over an hour ago. So far, the only thing going for this evening had been the sight of his partner in that dress. He unconsciously licked his bottom lip as his eyes raked over her body. It occurred to him that in certain lights it was translucent and he could easily make out her form. The color was a rich dark gold that sparkled and yet had a depth that made a stark contrast to her pale skin. It was, after all, her contrasts that bewitched him. His scan of her made it to her eyes where he found her smirking back at him.

“No,” she pursed her lips as she assessed him in return, “it’s a pity you had to get all dressed up for nothing, Jack.” She took a sip of her negroni maintaining eye contact with him over the rim of the glass as she drank. He was slightly more relaxed than he normally would be in a tuxedo in public, but it was rather late, and they’d had a few drinks. They were in the lounge of the Windsor and no one was around. The front desk was in the other room and the bar had closed half an hour ago.

“I wouldn’t say for nothing, Miss Fisher,” he quirked an eyebrow at her sipping at his own cocktail with a sultry gaze back at her, “That dress, for example, is worth the evening by itself.”

She stood, slowly running her hands over the silk, “What?” she slinked closer to him rubbing her hands from her waist to her breasts and then back down to her thighs, “This old thing?” He was mesmerized by the patterns of the fabric. As she got close enough, his hand moved on its own to rest on her hip. “Mmm… Stunning.” He purred at her. Jack’s expansive hand stroked down her hip, cupping her bottom as he pulled her closer. “Miss Fisher,” his playful, deep timbre rumbled up at her, “do I detect a lack of knickers under this dress?”

“Follow the evidence, Inspector,” she arched an eyebrow at him. He shook his head lightly at her, rolling his eyes slightly. _This woman._ Before he met Phryne Fisher, even the thought of public affection would be anathema to him. After he met her, he began fantasizing all matter of unseemly and scandalous things. Lately, Miss Fisher had a way of turning fantasy into reality.

He leaned forward in the gaudy, floral, wing-backed chair maintaining eye contact. He smoothed his hand down her leg to the hem of her skirt. He flicked the skirt hem aside moving his hand to the back of her calf. “I can feel that you are at least wearing stockings.” He reported. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “One can’t be too risqué.”  He lightly shook his head with a purse of lips in mock agreement that propriety must be maintained. He ran his hand up the inside of her calf with a light touch that sparked gooseflesh across her forearms and an inhale. “Interesting,” he noted as he continued sliding lightly up her leg, “Does it tickle?”

She was getting slightly short of breath. “It’s not tickling. It’s… something else.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at her, “Is it, now?” she nodded slowly. He circled his fingertips around her knee. She bunched the skirt of her dress with clenched fists in an unconscious attempt to give him better access. “Tsk. What’s the rush, Miss Fisher?” She shot him a glare but continued bunching her dress as he smiled at her wickedly.

His hand drifted up her inner thigh and found the edge of her stocking. The smirk on Jack’s face was replaced by a cloud of hot desire as his fingers felt the moisture on the edge of the stocking, offering evidence of her arousal. Her naked skin beyond the stocking was hot and damp. “Fuck, Phryne,” biting his lip, “you’re soaking wet.” 

She hiked her skirt up a little more.

Jack slid his hand to lightly brush against her drenched curls. “Definitely not wearing knickers,” he reported with a deep inhale as he closed his eyes.

“Excellent sleuthing, Detective Inspector,” she panted slightly, “Perhaps you’d like to continue?”

“There are other avenues I’d like to explore,” Jack said as he ran a finger through her slick folds toward her opening, “I feel like I’m missing something,” his thumb found her clitoris and he began to work slow circles around the periphery, “I can’t quite put my finger on it,”

She inhaled sharply as he began his thumb movements. Heavily lidded eyes met his, “You are a very thorough investigator, Inspector,” she complimented him huskily, “I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of this mystery.” She lifted an eyebrow at him and he mirrored the action.

“In due time, Miss Fisher. In due time,” he slid a finger into her vaginal canal, “there are several areas I’d like to probe. Depths I'd like to plumb.” As wet as she was, he added two more fingers and began probing vigorously as his thumb moved ever faster over her clitoris.

Phryne was beginning to lose control. She dropped the edges of her skirt and reached for the wings of the chair to steady herself as Jack worked her furiously toward her release.

As she came, Phryne’s legs gave out and she found herself cradled in Jack’s lap. She could still feel him slowly massaging her sex, as her muscles spasmed around his hand.

She reached her hand to his face, bringing it to hers so she could kiss him deeply, “So, is the case of the missing knickers is solved?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Mmm. Partially,” he answered, “I’ve confirmed that they are, in fact missing… but there is a deeper mystery.”

“What is the deeper mystery, Inspector?” she asked as nibbled along his jawline.

“The mystery of where your internal device is located,” he said, “and how quickly we can locate it.”

She opened her eyes wide, “Damn.” 

He smiled at her, “Problem, Miss Fisher?”

“I… I forgot to insert it, I figured we wouldn’t have time here and we’d be home by…” he stopped her with a kiss.

“It’s alright,” he said as he pulled away, “Let’s just move this back to Wardlow.”

She gave him a wicked grin, “I have a better idea,” her voice was low and sultry, “you did want to get to the _bottom_ of the mystery.”

He stopped massaging her pussy and stared at her, “Phryne, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“It’s not that big of deal, Jack,” she turned on her most convincing tone, “Sometimes you’ve used your fingers there, you know how lovely it can feel… I’ve done it to you,”

He closed his eyes and began massaging her again, feeling the wet warmth slicking his hand, “Not to sound immodest, Miss Fisher, but I’d like to think my cock is a little more substantial than a finger.”

Phryne moved herself off of his lap, disrupting his ministrations. “We just need a little extra help,” she reached for her purse to get something to ease the way. She felt around for the small tube. It wasn’t there. “Damn!”

“Another problem, Miss Fisher?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes… the thing… I suggested… we may have to move that back to Wardlow, as well,” she looked exceedingly disappointed.

He stood, pulling her to him and kissed her deeply, “then we’ll be able to take our time.”

“Mmmm…. Yes…” she pushed away from him and walked off toward the front desk, “Grab the chair and load it in the Hispano! We’re taking that, too!”

“What?!” he called after her, “Phryne? What?”

“I’ll take care of it!” she said behind her as she left him in the lounge alone.

“Take the…” he looked back at the chair they had been sitting in. Why did she want this chair? At this point, he was tired. He was horny. He did not care. He assumed that she was going off to the front desk to pay for the thing. He hoped that he wasn’t committing a misdemeanor.

He picked up the ugly, floral wingback chair and carried it out the side door to the Bourke Street exit of the Windsor, toward Phryne’s Hispano Suiza which was parked just outside. His face strained. Beads of sweat were already forming on his brow and he could feel the cool trails down his neck.  

She caught up to him as he was almost to the car and opened the back door to let him maneuver the chair into the car. As he got into position at her backdoor, he realized how tight the fit was going to be. “I really don’t think that’s going to fit.” He didn’t want to cause any damage to such a beauty. This car cost more than he would ever make in his lifetime.

“Mmm…” She smiled at him seductively, “Of course it will. Just push.”

It took some maneuvering, but it did eventually fit into the back of the car.

“Did you pay for this, or did I just commit a misdemeanor?” Jack asked.

“I rather like the thought of you committing crimes and misdemeanors at my bidding, Jack,” she said simply.

“Am I going to have to go on the run?” he said in mock worry, “Settle somewhere in Patagonia and become a zebra rancher? I’ll take you with me, we’ll have eight children and…”

“Stop!” She handed him the handwritten receipt for the chair from the manager, “That’s enough of that game, thank you.”

Phryne put the car into gear and pointed it toward Jack’s place. “Where are you going?” he was confused again, which seemed to be a perpetual condition around Phryne. “I thought we were going to move this back to Wardlow?”

“Change of plans, Darling,” she said, “besides your place is closer, I have a spare diaphragm there, and this chair doesn’t match my furniture.”

“Doesn’t match...” Jack put his fingertip to his eyebrows in an attempt to try to force some sense into that string of thought. His attempt failed. “Phryne, what on earth? Why? Why do we have this chair?”

“Jack!” she turned to him, and then back to the road, “It’s a very special chair!” 

He didn’t really understand but he said nothing else about it.

He did all the heavy lifting when they made it to his bungalow. He tried to be as quiet as possible, so as not to wake the neighbors. He knew she didn’t really care, but he still had a reputation that—oh, who was he kidding? His reputation was shot ages ago.

He set the chair down unceremoniously in the parlor. It not only failed to match his belongings, it aggressively mocked them. Phryne disappeared the moment he set down the chair.

He took off his tuxedo jacket and tie, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.

He sat in the new… new to him… chair. It was comfortable enough, he supposed. Not as comfortable as his favorite chair just across from him now. Certainly not as worn to his form, but it was sturdily built. The floral print was atrocious, but maybe he could cover it with something.

He felt fingertips playing with his hair. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard her pad in on bare feet. He turned to see her and his breath caught at how beautiful she was. Gone was the fancy dark, gold gown, the stockings, the jewelry, the makeup. She stood there, fresh-faced in his unbuttoned pajama top. He’d never seen her look more stunning.

She moved around to the front of the chair. He caught glimpses of her breasts under the unbuttoned shirt as she moved. Once she was in front of him, she moved forward and straddled his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Without a word, she began unbuttoning his shirt. His erection sprang back to life underneath his trousers as she made quick work of his buttons. She pushed the shirt off him and went to work on his trouser fastenings while he pulled off his undershirt.

She freed his cock and lifted herself up on her knees to give him space to shimmy out of his trousers and smalls underneath her. She took ahold of his cockhead, rubbed it along her folds, coating it with her slickness, and then positioning him at her vaginal opening—sank onto him fully.

Phryne held onto the wings of the chair as she thrust downward. Jack gripped her just above the globes of her ass and drove himself into her with abandon. Jack came first. Wild thrusting and panting moans signaled the start of his release. The warm surge his release triggered Phryne’s own quieter, rippling waves of pleasure.

They stayed joined for some time.

“Why is this chair so special?” Jack finally asked into the side of her head, following the question with a kiss. She’d collapsed onto him.

She pushed herself up slightly and looked at him with strange peacefulness in her eyes, “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said, “This is where I figured out that I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Sarahtoo and Scruggzi, because you suggested I take the chair. It's not much, but I took that chair... and well... I took it... and that's - well, I guess that's somethin'.


End file.
